


One Green Bauble

by Rospberry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-30
Updated: 2008-05-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8213227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rospberry/pseuds/Rospberry
Summary: Draco is decorating the Christmas tree, and Harry, to his consternation, is trying to help.





	1. One Green Bauble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In most parts of the UK 'bauble' is pronounced like baw-ble, not entirely dissimilar to bobble. Just to avoid any language confusion.

Disclaimer: Characters from the Harry Potter Universe belong to JK Rowling and are used without permission but with no intent to defraud. 

Many thanks to my fantastic beta mayalaen.

*

"Pass me a bauble."

"A bobble?" Harry peered into the cardboard box and frowned. The silver tinsel draped around his shoulders dangled in the way, and he slung the ends back around his neck like a scarf. "What the hell is a bobble?" 

Draco, precariously balancing on a footstool to reach the uppermost branches of the huge Christmas tree, scowled down at the bowed head of his boyfriend. "Not bobble, you uneducated ignoramus. _Bauble_." Harry looked up, still looking nonplussed, and Draco sighed. "The glass balls."

"Oh, right. Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" Harry reached into the box and pulled out a brightly coloured ball. It emitted a soft chime, and he eyed it nervously. "Why'd it make a noise?" 

"It's charmed," Draco said sharply, his patience wearing thin. He'd spent all morning decorating the house for Christmas, and the whole time Harry had pestered him with questions. He readjusted a strand of golden tinsel and looked down, shaking his head when he saw the ball in Harry's hand. "No, not the green one: the red."

"What difference does it make?" Harry asked, giving the ball a little shake and grinning when it let out another melodious tinkle. 

"Look at the tree, Harry, just look at it."

Harry lifted his head. "I can see the tree, Draco."

"Well, if you can see the tree – decorated as it is in red and gold – then why do you need me to explain why a green bauble is inappropriate?"

"It's just a Christmas tree; who cares if the colours don't match?"

Draco looked horrified, and he had to steady himself, curling one hand around a branch. "It is not _just_ a Christmas tree. It is our first Christmas tree. And it's going to be bloody well perfect." His voice rose with each word, and by the end he was almost shouting.

"All right, calm down," Harry said. "You're going to have a heart attack if you carry on like that."

Draco took a breath and spoke again in a normal tone. "Perhaps, Harry, you might like to go and entertain yourself somewhere else?"

"What? Why?"

"Because, Harry, _dear_ , if you don't go somewhere else, I'm going to have to kill you," Draco snapped, and the tip of the branch in his hand snapped off. The murderous look he gave the branch, and turned back on Harry, was enough to reinforce his words.

Harry nodded swiftly. "Okay, okay," he said. "I get the message. I'll go and make some tea, shall I?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you."

Bobbing his head and still clutching the bauble in his hand, Harry hastily left the room, leaving Draco with the tree.

Draco took out his wand and, with a swish and a flick, levitated all of the red and gold baubles out of the box to hover in the air beside him.

Feeling much calmer with Harry gone, Draco methodically set about hanging all of the decorations, setting them precisely on the tree to give the most inspiring effect. If there was one thing his Malfoy heritage had gifted him with, it was the ability to make a room look picture-book perfect.

He was almost done, crouching down on the stool to place a final bauble on a lower branch, when he heard Harry clearing his throat at the door to the room.

"You were a while making tea," Draco observed, not turning around. 

"I got a bit distracted," came the reply.

"Hmm?" Draco placed the last bauble and brushed a long strand of hair back behind his ear as he straightened.

"Yeah, I... er... decorated my own tree," Harry said. "You see, you've done one in Gryffindor colours, and I thought..."

Puzzled at Harry's stilted speech, Draco turned and froze.

Harry stood in the doorway, naked but for a Santa hat, the string of silver tinsel still circling his neck, and the green bauble hanging from the end of his half-erect cock. He was flushed and looking very nervous. "So? What do you think?" he asked, holding his hands out to the side.

A predatory smile formed on Draco's lips, the perfect tree behind him all but forgotten. "I think," he said, climbing off the stool and taking slow, stalking steps towards Harry, "that you make an exceptional Slytherin tree." He stopped a few feet away and tilted his head to side, considering. "Of course, you're missing something."

"Oh, yeah?" Harry said. "What's that?"

"A fairy," Draco said. "You've got to have a fairy mounted on top of the tree."

The green bauble chimed merrily between them, and Draco stepped forwards, smothering the sound as he pressed his body against Harry's and captured the brunet's mouth in a kiss. Harry's hands twisted in the Draco's jumper, pulling him closer still, moaning as Draco's pine-scented fingers brushed across his cheek to slide into his hair; Draco's other hand cupped his arse and made both of them forcefully aware of the bauble trapped between them.

Draco groaned, reluctantly breaking off the kiss and pulling his head back to rub his nose against Harry's. "It's customary for Slytherin trees to be decorated in a bedroom," he said.

Harry grinned. "Well, who am I to doubt the word of a Slytherin? Lead the way."

And that – in a tale they shared with no one – was how there came to be a single, slightly dented green bauble hanging proudly on the Malfoy-Potter Christmas tree.


	2. One Green Bauble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco is decorating the Christmas tree, and Harry, to his consternation, is trying to help. Family traditions that you'll never tell the kids. But they ask, anyway.

  
Author's notes: Draco is decorating the Christmas tree, and Harry, to his consternation, is trying to help. Family traditions that you'll never tell the kids. But they ask, anyway.  


* * *

Disclaimer: Characters from the Harry Potter Universe belong to JK Rowling and are used without permission but with no intent to defraud. 

Many thanks to my fantastic beta amightypenguin. 

*

"What are we keeping this for, Father?" Draco and Harry's eldest, Sirius, asked, holding the bauble in his fingers. 

"Tradition," Draco replied, not looking up from his potions book. "Just put it on the tree."

"But why's it all dented?"

The book quivered, Draco's knuckles whitening as his grip tightened. "Just put it on the tree, Sirius, and go help your dad with dinner."

Sirius's eyes narrowed, sensing a story. He hung the bauble in its usual spot, and with grey eyes glittering with purpose, set off to the kitchen to find his dad.

Harry was showing Lily how to whip cream, trying to stop the five-year-old from flicking it all over the floor, and barely looked up as his son entered the room.

"Dad..." Sirius began.

"Yeah?" 

"Why's that green bauble dented?"

The whisk clattered to the ground and Harry hastily picked it up, going to the sink to give it a rinse under the tap. Not looking at Sirius, he asked, "What green bauble?"

"On the tree." 

"Ah, right." He turned back around, pushing his glasses up with a wet finger, whisk brandishing in the air. "Ask your father."

"He told me to ask you," Sirius lied.

"Did he now? To be honest, I really don't remember the full story. I think me and your father were fighting." The fond smile on his lips didn't match what he was saying. "We fought a lot back then."

"So why did you keep it?"

"Sentimental value," Harry replied. Holding out the whisk to his son, he added, "Now, if you have nothing better to do than ask stupid questions you can show your sister how to whisk."

Sirius scowled but did as he was told; he clearly wasn't going to get a straight answer from either of his parents, but he wasn't going to give up. The next time Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione came around, he'd wait until they'd had a few, and then he'd ask again. And maybe then he would get an honest answer.

He smiled as he handed the whisk to his little sister, unaware of his dad's suspicious expression.


	3. Sirius Asks

Disclaimer: Characters from the Harry Potter Universe belong to JK Rowling and are used without permission but with no intent to defraud. 

Many thanks to my fantastic beta amightypenguin. 

*

"Can I stay up, Dad?" Sirius asked plaintively.

Harry shook his head, setting the wine bottle back down on the sideboard. "No."

"Please."

"No, Sirius. It's after eleven." Harry tried to ignore Ron's mouthed, 'Spoilsport', hiding the smile as he saw his best friend being elbowed hard in the side by his wife.

"But it's the holidays, Dad."

"I don't care." Harry walked around him and over to the couch to hand Hermione the glass of wine he'd just poured for her.

"Thank you," Hermione said, taking the proffered glass.

"Beer, Weasley?" Draco asked from the doorway, walking in with a couple of bottles in his hand. 

Ron nodded vigorously. "Thanks, mate," he said.

"You won't be requiring a glass, will you?" Draco asked as he passed him a bottle.

"Nah, I'm fine." 

Draco handed the other bottle to Harry, not even bothering to offer a glass. Harry's fingers brushed Draco's as he took it, and they shared a small smile.

"Father," Sirius said loudly, and Draco turned his head, raising an eyebrow. He let go of the bottle as he focused on his dark-haired son.

"Yes?"

"Can I stay up?"

Harry frowned, looking around Draco to glare at Sirius. "I already told you, 'no'."

"Yeah, but I just-"

"Silence," Draco said sharply, and Sirius's mouth snapped shut into a thin line. Dark eyebrows furrowed as he scowled at his parents. 

Draco ignored the look and turned to Harry, speaking softly. "Where's the harm in letting him stay up a little later?" he asked. "He's almost thirteen, and it's nearly Christmas."

"I already said no," Harry argued, aware that Sirius was listening intently to their hushed words. Hermione rose from the couch and walked over to Sirius, diverting his attention by asking for a refill for her hastily drunk wine.

"Harry," Draco said, leaning closer. "I was well-versed in social etiquette by the time I was his age. It will do him no harm to spend more time in adult company; he spends far too much time mixing with the Weasley children as it is."

Over Draco's shoulder, Harry saw Ron's expression darken, and he tried to forestall an argument by agreeing quickly. "Fine," he said. "Fine. But just for an hour."

The smile on Draco's face was angelic. "Excellent." Swivelling on his heel, he addressed their son. "Sirius, you may stay up a little later, but I expect you to be on your best behaviour."

"Yes, Father," Sirius replied, his smile matching Draco's. 

Inwardly, Harry groaned.

*

"'S weird, is all I'm saying." Ron's finger waggled vaguely between Harry and Draco.

"It's not weird, Weasley, it's practical," Draco replied, sipping from his wine. He looked sober, but there was a slight tremor in his hand as he lowered the glass.

"He calls you Father, and 'arry, Dad. 'S weird," Ron repeated. "Innit, 'Mione?" He swivelled around to stare at his wife, nearly overbalancing as he slid to the edge of the couch.

Hermione blinked at him sleepily. "Sorry? I didn't quite catch what-" She let out a little burp, and giggled, waggling fingers against her mouth. "Pardon me," she said. "It's the bubbles, you see. This is fizzy." She held up the glass in her hand too quickly and wine slopped onto the floor.

Harry, sitting on the floor beside Sirius, hand poised over a whisky tumbler that was currently doubling as the Cannons' Beater as he tried to explain the team's tactics to his son, looked up. "Hermione, you're drunk." He poked a finger in Sirius's side and pointed it at the other three adults. "They're drunk, Si."

The mixture of Muggle whisky and beer on Harry's breath had his son flinching back. "Dad," he said. "You're all drunk."

Harry leaned closer, peering into Sirius's face. "Are you drunk?" 

"'Course not."

"Good." Satisfied, Harry leaned back, momentary panic on his features as he thought there was nothing behind him, and letting out a breath of relief when he felt the armchair meet his back.

Sirius looked from Harry to Draco and grinned. "Uncle Ron?" he said, looking over at the couch. Ron tried to focus on the boy.

"What's up, mate?" he asked. 

"You're Dad's best friend, aren't you?"

"Harry's, yeah. Tha's right, mate."

"So you know everything about him?"

Hermione giggled and muttered something disparaging under her breath. Ron ignored her, puffing his chest out. "Yeah, we’ve been through loads together. Loads and loads, and loads and loads…" his words died off as his head started to tip back, and he jerked awake with a jolt, his head tipping forwards. "LOADS," he repeated loudly, making Draco flinch. "Long before 'e," a finger pointed at the blond, "turned up."

Sirius sat straighter. "They used to fight, right?"

"Yeah." Ron nodded fondly. "All the time."

"No, we did not," Draco argued.

"Did."

"Not."

"Did."

A soft snore came from Harry, and Sirius glanced around to see his dad was asleep, head resting on the seat of the chair pushing his glasses askew.

"Not."

Sirius's attention flicked back to the bickering adults. "Uncle Ron," he said loudly.

The argument abruptly ceased, and two drunken faces focused on him. Hermione was staring into her wine glass, a finger chasing the bubbles around as she giggled softly.

"How did the green bauble get dented?"

Ron stared at him, his face a mask of inebriated confusion. "Wha'?"

Draco's eyes had widened, emptying the wine glass in his hand in one gulp.

"The green bauble on the tree." Sirius pointed over to the ornament, dangling from its position of prominence on the branches. "They said it got dented while they were fighting, and I thought that you would know about it."

Ron looked over at the bauble. "Tha' thing," he said. "Always did wonder about it. Though tha' it was maybe Harry's mum and dad's or somethin'. Bit knackered, innit?"

Sirius was puzzled. "So, you don't know about it?"

Ron shook his head, then clasped a hand to his mouth, looking suddenly ill. He stumbled to his feet, staggering to the door with a muttered, "'Scuse me, feeling a bit… back in a…"

Sirius's grey eyed snapped around to his father. Draco gave him a watery smile and said weakly, "You know, Sirius, I think it really is well past your bed-time."

"How come Uncle Ron doesn't know anything about the bauble?" Sirius asked, ignoring the comment.

Draco tilted his head. "Your Uncle Ron doesn't know about a lot of things," he said. "I wouldn't hold it against him."

"But why wouldn't he know about the bauble? You and Dad act like it's really important."

Hermione voice was bright as she butted in. "It's very important, isn't it, Draco?" she said. "Very significant."

"I believe you are inebriated, Hermione," Draco said stiffly. "Perhaps you would like to retire to your room."

She flapped a hand at him. "Pfft. I'm shine…sine…fine. Jus' a little tipsy."

"The bauble, Auntie Hermione?" Sirius said quickly. "How'd it get dented?"

"They did it," she said. "Harry tol' me aaaall about it."

"Hermione," Draco's voice barked, and Harry jerked awake.

"Wha-?" he sputtered. 

"The bauble, Harry," Hermione said. "He's asking about the bauble."

"Oh, yeah." Harry rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and smiled. "Me and Draco dented that really good, didn't we? Left bruises like you wouldn't believe." He rested a hand over his groin. "Tha' was a great Christmas, wasn't it, Draco?" His gaze slid drunkenly across to his husband, who was looking at him, pale-faced and horrified.

Sirius's eyes were wide, staring at both his parents in disbelief. They couldn't mean…

Ron stumbled into the room, collapsed onto the couch, and asked loudly, "Wha' did I miss?" 

"Draco and I denting tha' bauble when we had sex," Harry explained. "'Ow it was dangling on my co-" Draco dived across the room, clasped a hand over Harry's mouth, smothering the words, as he turned to their wide-eyed son.

"Sirius. Bed. Now," he snapped.

Sirius nodded quickly, scrabbling to his feet, and racing out of the door. They heard his footsteps thundering up the stairs and the sound of a door slam.

Ron's bleary eyes slid from the doorway back to the Malfoy-Potters, Draco still frozen, half-sprawled across Harry's lap with a hand clamped over his husband's mouth. "You ha' sex with a bauble?" he said, frowning, and his wife laughed.

"No, silly," she said. "They had sex around the bauble. It was very sexy." She hiccupped. "Very sexy."

Draco looked at Ron, and Ron looked back at Draco.

"You had to be there," Draco said and then paled even more. "Not there, exactly. If you had seen…no, er…"

"'S'okay, mate," Ron interrupted, equally unsettled. "I'm pissed. Won't remember a word of this in the morning."

But Draco, as drunk as he was, knew that he couldn't be that lucky. 

On the tree, the bauble twinkled merrily, the dents catching the light from the room. 

Upstairs, Sirius stared at the ceiling, swearing to himself the next time his parents told him not to ask about something, he'd listen to them. And next year, he'd show Lily how to decorate the Christmas tree, 'cause there was no way he was EVER touching that green bauble again. Ever.


End file.
